This Week in Milford

July 13, 2020

Predictable, That’s The Word Of The Day

Filed under: Bare Midriffs, Chunky Bracelets, Gil Thorp, huge earrings, Mimi Thorp — nedryerson @ 7:44 am

Summer has officially arrived. We survived a plot that nobody wants to think about ever again, so we cleanse our palates with a cool, refreshing beverage on the deck at the Thorp house. This event is so predictable that Mimi calls out its predictable nature in the text. Wow, that’s like, meta.

Gil is as predictable as the strip named for him. He knows it and Mimi knows it. Ah, but Gil has a trick up his sleeve. He’s mixed iced tea into the official beverage of the Thorp deck, lemonade, to make Arnold Palmers. (Is Gil already thinking of golf? Probably. He is so predictable.)

I don’t mind an Arnold Palmer, but I am a dedicated drinker of iced tea. We don’t know Mimi’s stance on iced tea. (Have they ever drank iced tea in Gil Thorp, Long Island notwithstanding? I haven’t a clue.) If Mimi is not into iced tea, perhaps an Arnold Palmer to her is a ruined glass of lemonade. Maybe Gil is about to get a pitcher of Arnold Palmers dumped on his head. That would be unpredictable, but…

We’ve got to ease into a new plot with some characters we can’t identify. We have two young women, one who wants to sleep in and one who needs her “bestie” to get her downtown. (Do kids use the term bestie and do they actually address friends thusly? I’m clueless here too.)

So the bestie that’s all ready to go (Earrings: check. Bracelets: check. Bare midriff: check.) has presumably passed through a parental checkpoint and proceeded straight to her bestie’s bedroom. I can’t help but image an Eddie Haskell like conversation in the foyer. “Is Bestie up? No, well Mrs. Bestie, I shall rouse her so that she shan’t tarry in bed all summer. All my best to Mr. Bestie!” Maybe kids just barge into each other’s homes these days. (Clueless.)

The word predictable immediately brings to mind this Kinks song from the dawn of the MTV era. Maybe this era of Kinks pales in comparison to the genius songwriting of the 60s/early 70s. This song is a little trite, I guess, but I have a soft spot for that period when aging sixties acts tried their hand at updating sounds and making videos to appeal to new audiences.

July 11, 2020



Ridiculousness is an MTV show that’s kind of like a more painful version of America’s Funniest Home Videos, starring some flatbiller skateboarder type and with a panel consisting of a rapper, a guest and a woman who laughs like SpongeBob. It’s one of son of teenchy’s guilty pleasures and that’s about all I know about it.

Ridiculousness is also what these past four months have been in this strip. Today this inanity has come to an end and in the most predictable, yet contrived manner possible. I can’t hammer home hard enough how ridiculous it was for Gil not to stand up for Mike against Dr. Pearl and the school board, how even more ridiculous it was for that non-Hadley V. Baxendale lawyer to roll over and play dead without putting up any kind of fight (seriously, are there any decent lawyers in Milford?), and how most ridiculous that someone at State U. bought Gil’s story that Mike’s challenging the Mudlarks to a baseball game, assembling the Valley Modified Freakazoids! and leading them to an ass-whooping-turned-gorgefest somehow exemplified “leadership, responsibility, perseverance” and reversed The Mayor’s rejection decision. (Phew! Gotta watch my pulse rate.)

What else was ridiculous? Mike’s gal pal Phoebe not telling him to put away the butter knife as soon as she saw him whip it out. The Lady Mudlarks’ lack of pitching depth and Mimi’s one-girl rotation (not the first time we’ve seen that). The way the Lady Mudlarks fell off the radar once their lack of pitching depth was shown. The self-congratulatory catering of Gil, Kaz, Rooney and Mimi. Anna Karenina Corinna Corinna bringing softball gear to a baseball game. (BTW, we missed an opportunity to bring up the monster catcher’s mitt Paul Richards designed for Clint Courtney and Gus Triandos to use when catching knuckleballer Hoyt Wilhelm.)  Finally, we have the ridiculousness of Mike’s former teammates pelting him with their gloves. Hope you don’t end up with a concussion, Mayor!

So a redemptive ending for Mike Knappe via Gilberto ex machina. But what will happen to the Valley Modified Kids? Where’s Ardis Carhee’s Gil Thorp to pull his nuts out of the fire? Where’s Corinna “Don’t Call Me Karen” Karenina’s Mimi to help her overcome her authority issues? These Dead End Kids will be tossed aside and forgotten like so many cardboard cutouts of fans that will populate MLB stadiums if and when the majors resume their sham of a 60-game season in a couple of weeks. That, gentle readers, is the even bigger tragedy here – one that Neil Rubin has used to take us to this slapdash happy ending that, really, isn’t all that happy.



Tell The Coach


Okay, just checked in with robmize this afternoon and he’s okay. Here’s Friday’s strip to lead into the grand finale.

As they say in Philly, “Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

This, gentle readers, is peak Gil Thorp. Finishing second in the Valley? Check. Not standing up to the system, but going along to get along? Check. Pulling strings behind the scenes to help a single kid out? Check. Does the timing of all of this check out? Let’s poned that when I get today’s strip posted. In the meantime, keep an antacid handy and take in the horror that is the Mayor dry humping Gil in P2.


Do you feel like I do??

Filed under: general nonsense, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, lessons learned — robmize2013 @ 4:47 pm

Yes I’m posting almost a day late, but my main problem was I couldnt copy or find the strip anywhere for some reason. Now it works, so I’ll do a quick post.

So in the end as always, all is forgiven. Gil tells the dopes at State about the farce that was the head to head matchup of the century, which turned into a picnic. And THAT was what sealed the deal for the Mayor to get into this joint they call a college?? Sheesh.

Time for a song:\

July 9, 2020

Pizza? $612.23. Oversized Sub? $95 With A Coupon. Truckload Of Uncle Bud’s Ice Cream At A Discount? $446.79. Fellowship And An Old-Fashioned Butt-Whipping? Priceless.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 11:06 am



Gil Thorp Comic Strip for July 09, 2020




Teenchy, One more time. Welcome back. You had me very concerned. Get well, My Friend.


And Monday is the time to express our generic gratitude for the past weekend. Where do we begin?

Gee, Milford, thanks for coming and kicking some behind at our expense. We tried to hold off the cavalry for so long with the Good Humor Man but it was clear the Dakota Territory was going to fall under U.S. administration. You could only hold off Sheridan and his troops with Digiorno for so long. Giving them cases of Dr. Pepper to wash it down just bought a little more time but we were whitewashed before the Subway truck could unload it’s 15-foot Italian Sausage Monster at Red Cloud’s position.

Still, nothing like Nick’s Pizza and a Klondike Bar at the Battle of Little Big Horn. Oh, there we won. General Custer fell for the Klondike Waffle Cone. The Indians scouted that ahead of time.

Be that as it may, this was another Thorpian Victory where nobody really won and nobody really cared. Kind of like the Barnum & Bailey Circus when the conventioneers come to Milford. Yeah, it’s OK to watch the clowns but we have business to do. We can’t be held up by the Bud truck.

Yeah, in the final analysis, tell your grandkids, Mayor, like Mr. Gauss told his hapless troops at Herbie’s Camp WE WON. I’m sure General Custer is telling his troops the same thing.

Because I was amazed that a card scanner was protruding outside the drive-thru window at a McDonald’s recently

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Nick’s Pizza Sued For Damages After Truck Runs Over Intercom System At The Bucket!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was trying to clear their 9-foot bar when I heard a scrunch in the suspension system.”


And Monday morning also exists at Valley Modified where student-athlete wannabes are recapping the buzz saw that was the latest game between either team (or ONLY game for some. I don’t THINK Spanky or Alfalfa played on travel teams and Carhee played basketball. Anybody who had to have a girl from the stands order the ump to take a piss break behind the scorekeeper’s box and tell Carhee how to field with your glove in a scoop position and not facing the other way to deflect those basketball-career-ending vicious ground balls probably had this game his FIRST one with officials on it, Foot Locker or no Foot Locker uniform (I worked for Kinney’s, the owner, and FL was next door) . ) . This is NOT what we brag about at the company picnic.

I dropped 10 fly balls that cost us 23 runs, couldn’t hit the ball with a Nick’s Pizza pan, and didn’t know the baseball rules from the rules of Monopoly but WE WON. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a weekend than to get my ass thumped, eat lots of Domino’s and Edy’s Ice Cream, and get a date from that 345-pound woman with a Mudlark tattoo on her right elbow through Milford Dating Match Unlimited. The one tooth sealed the deal and got me erect faster than a Gonzo slider. And the egg on my head in P1 just summed up the festivities. We’re all winners here.

But why stop there? Next time, I’ll stop The Mayor in the hallway and talk all about my family reunion. That they gave me documented information that I was adopted, I finished last in the horseshoe tournament, finished next to last in the washers tournament after one of the participants collapsed of a heart attack (84-years-old and was reigning washer champion at these reunions) , and drank myself drunk with the Bud truck driver. Wishing you were here.

I can’t wait for the Watchnight Service come New Year’s Eve. I’ll have my pick of churches. Isn’t that an embarrassment of riches?


If ya done got skunked at the horseshoe tournament but ya was able ta git yore pickup truck a jump from the Horseshoe Champion at the Milferd Foundry picnic ta show no hard feelin’s, ya might be a redneck.


WHO THE HELL IS STANDING BEHIND THE MAYOR AND MR. EGG ON HIS HAIR???? Is this guy in line to relate HIS version of what went on at the student-athlete picnic-athletic event? And how long is this line? The Mayor has to go to class, folks. I’m sure these feel-good stories about being bombed at Pearl Harbor then staging a fish fry in the Pearl Harbor Town Hall give Mr. Mayor a ray of hope but I think I hear the bell ringing. Don’t be tardy talking about your getting thrown out by a mile because you ran through The Mayor’s red light over Chimichangas in Chipotle Ranch Dressing that the Taco Bell van delivered.

“Yeah, the wind was really carrying it. Woulda broken the shutout but the left-fielder had a Swiffer mop and hauled it-”


“Shit!!!!!!!!!!! Gotta go!!!!!!!!!!! Class is on the other side of the school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


And then we head off into the sunset in P2. There’s still too many openings to indicate we are going to conclude this Another World Ad Aeturnum but the concept otherwise is workable as long as The Lone Ranger and Tonto change the angle of their walking path heading towards the horizon or they’re going to collide with She Needs Head & Shoulders To Remove The Dandruff And The Omelette On Her Strands.

But things could be worse. She at least has her butt in order, not the perpendicular lines to their beltlines that our anti-heroes are displaying.  How do they go to the bathroom? How do they wipe an angle bisector? They’re going to have a time of it should they be forced to resort to an outhouse.



The Nick’s Delivery Driver has compassion and can stand no more

“Here, try this Supreme Thin-Crust Pizza pan. One of our employees hit a grand slam and his team won the Milford City Softball Tournament.”


And even if this story is another Freddy Kruger (and just as ugly but we can at least fend off Freddy with a pitchfork) , the “Exit” sign should be a sign that SOME of this doggy-doo will wind up in the incinerator. Now understand that I am getting ambiguous signs here, wondering what class they are going to if on the other end of the sign is The Great Outdoors. French in the Great Wide Open? Language Lab in the parking lot? Intro to Sociology? What group behavior is being studied? The lawn crew when they’re at lunch? Those research methods ought to come in handy.

We just know that while The Mayor is offering a Lifesaver to Egghead over his dismal-but-Daagen-Hazs-enhanced performance that we should have no more Riverdale Modified vs. Archie and the Gang.

“Reggie, what are you doing at RM?”

“Archie, I got caught with Miss Grundy at Pop’s Choklit Shoppe because I was desperate. Veronica was out of town. I might have gotten away with it but Moose ratted on me after he found out that I raped his girlfriend Midge at the picnic behind the mutant poplars.”


And the latest entry in the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects hangs above the conversation down below. Thorpiverse would try to run it by you as part of a light apparatus. Boy, does he have YOU fooled.

This is a gigantic Raid Fly Sticky Paper device and does it do the job. It might be overkill since it’s assured that 1,563,874 flies, hornets, wasps, flying fire ants, or even Dumbo the Elephant or The Green Hornet will not all be in the space given in P2 at any given time but one can never be too careful. The welfare of the students at Valley Modified is of utmost concern. You can’t have mosquitoes sailing up your perpndicular butt without your knowledge. You might get malaria. Better safe than sorry.

Yes, it could be a night lamp designed to shock those poor suckers to death. I’m sticking with Sticky Fly Paper. Nobody traipses the hallways at 11:08PM to go to Intro to Sociology.


Jive Turkey, gotcha covered

Take ‘er away, Gene Rayburn

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought The Mayor’s lawyer could get him reinstated if the lawyer offered to Gil and Dr. Pearl___________________ in an out-of-court settlement at the picnic.”


I’m late, I’m late

For a very important date

No time to say Hello Goodbye

I’m late, I’m late, I’m late


Now that I have Disney’s Alice in Wonderland on my Close ‘n’ Play when I was 6 years old out of my system, we switch to the William Tell Overture (NOT ORIGINALLY The Lone Ranger Theme, for all you lazy bums everywhere) and wonder where in the name of Nick’s Pizza The Mayor is going to take that large manila envelope on his 10-speed. I’ll throw out he is working part time for Milford Courier Service, Inc. and delivering State Auditing Reports Re: Milford High School-2008 to Dr. Pearl at her house.


Mr. Dr. Pearl comes to the door, butt-naked, with a severe case of jock itch

“Ummmmmm, is Dr. Pearl here?”

“She’s in the shower.”

“Woyld you give these to her?”

“Absolutely. I’ll lay them on the coffee table.”


This just has to (unfortunately) be germane to a few loose ends. I don’t believe our readership can truly honestly envision The Mayor hitching on the back of a garbage truck for Milford Sanitation Engineers to pay his rent for the rest of his life because he was caught buttering his Chiffon on his Pillsbury Croissants with a switchblade. He can go to Harvard because he could point to that class clown that tortured Chris Schuring and everything will be peachy.


At Milford Comedy Club one night

“…and the hare said to the tortoise ‘Ya wanna race to Dr. Pearl’s garage door? And the tortoise replied ‘You must take me for Mr. Dr. Pearl’s butt.'”

Later that night at the Thorp household in the bedroom

“Well, Mimi, punchlines expressed in the form of a statement didn’t work. I better go back to the Socratic Method.”


Gang, do you think I should be nice about the yard in P3? Didn’t think so. I’m amazed that Mrs. Knappe (I’m sure they’re not living together without consulting the Milford Justice of the Peace) can work on the lawn in her Jerry Lawler knee pads, let alone work on what WE THINK is more lawn. If it is, and the mail route is motorized (mounted route in post office lingo) , how would the vehicle put the mail in the box and not run over the grass? Mrs. Lawler is just full of ideas. Organic Mail Delivery. You can get your mail and weed out the trouble spots in your petunia patch. And the driveway is at a nice angle, I’ll admit. I simply hope the lawn isn’t extended to where the driveway crosses. She’ll have SUV’s and Postal Jeeps running in all directions. And you really don’t want Jeep tire tracks in the rose bed.

But she has more on her mind than wayward LLV’s that run over pizzas and petunias as attested by The Mayor heading out of Dodge to send his SAT scores to Yale. Stay tuned.


A moment of sadness as I would like to remember Charlie Daniels, who just passed away. He was a no-nonsense, no-holds-barred singer and performer, agile in the genres of Country and Rock & Roll. He won a Grammy for “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” but also produced solid hits such as “In America”, The Legend of Wooley Swamp”, and “Still in Saigon”. I went to a concert of his and the first thing he says before he starts the concert is “I would like to dedicate tonight to my Lord Jesus Christ.” It is easy to say that when you’re on top of the mountain but he was well past his glory days but still loving to perform and remembering who made it all possible. I salute you, Charlie.


“We’ll return to see if The Lone Ranger and Tonto negotiate past an army of Cougars in Utah and get The Mayor’s transcript to Dartmouth before the deadline after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

“My goodness, I hope they have enough ammunition to shoot off those cats in the wild country. Me, I would have taken the train or FedEx’d it but we’ll all get to Heaven, even if we take a different route than the others. You don’t always need a Gideon Bible when we’re staying overnight at Milford Marriott.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp and the pandemic is slowly but surely backing away and the Milford Beverage Warehouse is opening Sesame. And you don’t even need to spell Sesame.

Come in and get a load of a 12-Pack of Bud Light. You don’t need to wear a mask to sample one of the premium beers in the business nor get Spuds Mackenzie’s paw print for the finest booze. We had a couple of autograph hounds come in and were sorely disappointed even when we told them they could use The Warehouse Discount Card on the Budster. I guess $12.99 was not enough to stop all the bitching.

And you people who have bathtubs that need to be replaced are in luck. You’ll recall that The Warehouse partnered with Milford Plumbing Solutions to replace that old toilet that had seen better days flushing. And all you had to do was buy The Warehouse’s finest and a potty that didn’t overflow or show permanent rust stains around the handle was yours for the pooping.

But The Warehouse has done one better. With cooperation from the same company, now until the end of August, with a purchase of Jim Beam in the 1.75 Liter bottle, MPS will install a Kohler Bath Tub for the ridiculously low $50/month and a down payment that they would charge their own family. Hey, they take baths too. They don’t want to be smelly either because they couldn’t get it financed according to Hoyle. Imagine, you’ll be able to relax in your new tub and curl up and read Great Expectations sipping whiskey from the tub tray. Their family is more inclined to Reader’s Digest but the whiskey still tastes the same.

And just to remind you, our Warehouse associates are required to wear protective masks, gloves, and booties while selling you The Good Life. The Good Life shouldn’t be contaminated with bugs, whether it’s Michelob Ultra or Jose Cuervo. If I saw an amoeba on my Jack Daniels Fire Water, I’d freak. That’s why any associate with a cold or the flu is required to stay home. We fired the last associate who regurgitated all over the Kendall Jackson Chardonnay. He shouldn’t have eaten that tuna sandwich running a 101 fever.

Safety with a vengeance, cheap booze, and quality bathtubs, you’ll find it all at Milford Beverage Warehouse. Come let your problems go down the drain but not your money or yoyr booze and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.


Gang, sorry I disagree. I think The Lone Ranger will get across the Missouri at St. Joseph before the ferry shuts down for the night. Otherwise, God bless you all.


Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Thousands Of Dollars In Damage As Milford PO Jeep Slams Into The Porch Of The Thorp Household!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Station Manager: I had to explain to the trainee that he was not doing a mounted route.”



Scratching his crotch for the 386th time today

“Honeybun, were you the one that mail-ordered this Cruex?”







July 8, 2020

Mimi Thorp: Guaranteed to Satisfy


While I was flat on my back in hospital this past weekend I did manage to keep up with the shenanigans at Milford Town Park, where the Milford – Valley Modified baseball game turned first into a rout then into a pukefest picnic. First the game was interrupted by pizza and drinks, then with a giant sub in the porniest way possible then, finally, with a visit from an ice cream truck with a name straight out of a Cheech and Chong movie and looking like it’s staffed by two Kazakhs and a bear.

As disgustingly as that whole scene played out, it pales in comparison to the victory lap these three mooks are taking in the Milford teacher’s teachers’ lounge. Nice to know that Gil, Kaz and Rooney feel as though buying the Dead End Kids some grub can assuage their guilt over not standing up for The Mayor when he needed it most, effectively screwing up his life for the forseeable future… or have they? What’s this mysterious email Gil’s referring to? Will it help Mike Knappe overcome the stigma of violating a draconian zero-tolerance policy for which none of his teachers or coaches stood up in opposition?

Who knows? All they care about is trying to figure out who sent the ice cream truck to Town Park. Hunkered down with a Popsicle® and a knowing smile, Mimi breaks the fourth wall. She must’ve been the one who stopped Uncle Bud as he was passing by.


Metapost: Not Dead Yet

Filed under: Gil Thorp, metapost — teenchy @ 6:56 am

Gentle readers,

I’ll keep this short and sweet: This past Saturday morning I went on a hike in the Poconos with son of teenchy. We started out fairly early but by the time we were done the temperatures were in the mid-80s Fahrenheit. The combination of heat, elevation changes, insufficient hydration and my old ass being out of shape led me to dehydration and heatstroke.

The ER doctors initially thought I’d had a heart attack, but a series of tests showed that not to be the case. I was kept in hospital for observation and yet more tests from Saturday afternoon until Monday afternoon. Nice way to spend a holiday weekend.

I’m still pretty tired and sore and moving kinda slow but I’m still here. Around the dinner hour on Saturday, I wasn’t sure I would be. I’ve learned some lessons the hard way, and I’ve gotta start making some changes both physically and mentally to make the best of the time I have left.

On that note, if you all will be patient with me I’ll get a post up about today’s strip later in the day.

Thanks for reading, I remain

yhs teenchy

July 7, 2020

Maybe We’ve Consumed Too Much Pizza Lately.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:58 pm


Maybe this plot’s overstepped its bounds lately

Too much pepperoni, little game

Maybe we need someone wearing a size 12

To kick this poop into the flames

Lately competition’s crappier than the weather

Who cares if game was won, or even logged

Lately we’ve been wondering if there’s a summer

We wouldn’t know, we’re in a fog


Yesterday has ran into tomorrow

Wrecking every team we’ve ever known

Even though VM lies together with Milford in this bed

I believe they’re lying there alone


When I saw all the maybe’s, it was the perfect opportunity to get one out of the David Allan Coe vaults. My dad is a HUGE fan of his music and I was going to nail the coffin on all these maybe’s with some Coe doing the funeral music.

And just when we’re well into July, the Plot That Won’t Stay Dead still has a few leftovers (we’re assuming this is the dregs of the coffee that we’re drinking in the faculty lounge and we have no intentions of brewing recycled Folger’s) . And lo and behold, we weren’t at the scene of the crime (Malicious Abuse of High School Athletics In Toto With Intent to Injure Our Sanity) , but we sure as heck can compare notes on the crime. Did you send the pizza? Oh, a little birdie called Nick’s Pizza. Did you send the subs? I called Dumbo the Elephant to relay a messsge to Subway. Did you send the carton of Marlboro’s? We had a smoking section and the rec league ump is a 2-pack-a-day honcho. Yes, I told the Lone Ranger who told Tonto and he packed them all in his saddle bag, including the Winston’s. He had to borrow Silver to hoist the Milford Tobacco Cigarillos.

I mean, this is getting plain foolish. We don’t have better things to talk about than bailing out a non-sanctioned event and sincerely believe we can wash our hands of this tomfoolery in the bargain? Really, Hawaii 5-0 built a script around these kinds of events.

“McGarrett, I caught Honore Vashon smuggling Laffee Taffee for profit at an under-the-table occurence. The mob figure to get 50% of the cut of the action with that and Chuckles. We caught him when he tried to negotiate with Milford Confectionary for top dollar. We found a whole crate of Mike & Ike in his trunk.”

“Ohhhhhhh, I did nothing wrong. Me and my son were only trying to help a bunch of losers who couldn’t shoot a fat-ass mafioso if he had a bullseye on his butt. And don’t mention what they couldn’t do with a baseball bat. I was only trying to import from the sweatshops of the South Pacific the finest Rolo’s to people who couldn’t field a question.”

“Tell that to the State Attorney General, Vashon. Book ’em, Dan-O.”


Speaking of Hawaii, I admired their football team’s respectable record (565-463-25) but honestly believe it’s been padded a little, for example, Kaneohe Marines, 1-0, Mickalums (don’t really know if that’s Hawaiian, just go along) , 2-0, Kauai Broncos, (Soon to go Division I any day now) , 1-0, Oahu Blues, 1-0, Honolulu McKinley High School (no Arizona State or New Mexico or Texas Tech (examples) were available? They just bailed on you and forced you to take drastic action? The HS was between that and UCLA?) , 11-0, Hawaii National Guard, 5-1 (The one loss occurred when the game-tying extra point was nullified because the kicker slipped on the rainy National Guard Outdoor Facility turf) , and Mid-Pacific Institute, 2-0 (Where’s West Pacific Institute? Is there an extension on Samoa?) . Granting an impressive resume against Cal State-Fullerton, 10-1, I STILL say

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“NCAA Nixes Contracts Between Milford Community College and Milford High School and Valley Alternative!!!!!!!!!!!!! MCC Will Have To Engineer 2 Games On Short Notice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“NCAA Spokesperson: This was not performed in the spirit of fair play. Milford Pizza Hut Deliveries was not going to change that perception.”


“So, Dr. Pearl, were you the one to send The Good Humor Man to the game?”



Steve Goodman was a well-respected musician and songwriter who wrote “The City of New Orleans” (…Good morning, America, how are ya…) , sung as a Top 40 hit back in the ’70’s by Arlo Guthrie. Goodman eventually wrote with John Prine “The Perfect Country and Western Song” or “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” and sent it to David Allan Coe for a critique. Coe facetiously sent it back and said the song (as noted IN the song) that it really wasn’t Country because it didn’t talk about trains, Mama, prison, pickup trucks, or getting drunk. Goodman facetiously returned the favor by taking him up on it and adding those elements to the song and it ironically became a smash hit. Prine wanted it uncredited to him because he wanted no part of challenging Nashville, which by the ’70’s had become a very powerful influence in music, especially Country music. He did not want to take on a tidal wave. The movie “Nashville”, a Robert Altman cult classic confirmed that.

David Allan Coe wasn’t afraid to take on the Nashville establishment, pointing out that Nashville had simply become another pawn in Corporate America. And it had some merit. The moving of the Grand Ole Opry with then-Opryland next door showed how commercialized Country Music had become. Ryman Auditorium got left in the wake (the original venue for Grand Ole Opry) , ruffling some feathers. On the other hand, nobody confused Minnie Pearl with a Yuppie. Many Country stars such as Johnny Cash and Porter Wagoner had their feet on the ground. Country was still Country.

That said, I have my own perfect Country song that pretty well sums up what’s been going on so far. Check it out

The plot was stalled and drunk

The day my mom started at Nick’s Pizza

And she drove all those pizzas by Milford Prison in the rain

But before she could make it to the ballfield in her delivery truck

The pizzas got run over by a damned ol’ train


OK, it wasn’t a pickup truck. We can bend the rules and still be a perfect Country song. We bent A LOT of rules in this game, Gil, Kaz, and Andy included.


“So Mr. Bader, was it you that sent Ronald McDonald to distribute all the Happy Meals?”

“How could I? I’m up for parole next week.”


Ladies and Gentlemen, your latest in Pantheon of Mysterious Objects is that unusual chart on the wall and I wonder IS THAT A STOCK MARKET SHEET????

“…Milford Foundry, down a quarter, Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, up 3/8, The Bucket, down 3/4, Milford Toyota, up a quarter, Trading Futures, polled herefords trading in at a 1/2, the Molford Stockyards reporting a discrepancy, particularly among hogs…”

And then the price of coffee, normally cents on the dollar at most high school faculty lounges across the country are evidently at a premium at Milford High judging by the oversized dollar sign.  I don’t know who can afford Folger’s Premium Select Exclusively For Teachers With A Nest Egg The Size Of Doctor Pearl’s Bun but maybe that’s a best-kept secret. I THINK that’s?Gil behind that Phantom of the Opera mask. Really unclear about that one too.

“…You don’t have to call me Barry Bader

And you don’t have to call me Dr. Pearl

And you don’t have to call me Coach Heather


Even though you were once a soccer girl…”


If yore neighbors pitch in fer the whiskey to take ta yore ex-wife and ya want ta start over cuz ya git a charge out of makin’ love ta women who are 600 pounds with boobs ya can recline in and one tooth ya can hang yore hunting cap on, ya might be a redneck.


And this could be another coffee commercial in P2

“We have secretly pissed in Gil’s Folger’s Classic Roast to see if he notices the difference. Can the leading coffee in the industry and the Official Coffee down at Milford Foundry stand up to the strain? Andy awaits with bated breath while pretending to read Milford Harness Racing results

“So there was a rumor floating around that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir shipped the Twinkies and Ho Ho’s while they were on break from their concert at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater. Did you hear anything, Gil?”



“We won’t tell Dr. Phibes a/k/a Gil the truth. But this is proof positive of what happens when we select the finest coffee beans from the hills of Colombia to the ranches in Honduras and the part-time hog farmer near New Thayer. And the good news is, you don’t have to take a urine test to experience fine coffee. Try a cup of Folger’s Classic Roast today. Available in your Milford area grocers.”

And after a taste test and finding out your horse finished last, nothing better to catch up on the latest lowdown with Gil and Kaz while soaking in Milford Adult Monthly. Sure, Andy, Luhm picked it up off the rack at Milford Adult Shoppe when they ran out of Archie comics. We won’t tell.

“Wowwwwwwwwww, get a load of Mimi in this pin-up-oops, I hope Gil didn’t hear me.”


“…Well, I’ve heard my name a few times in Milford’s phone book (hello, hello)

And I’ve seen it at The Bucket, where I’ve played

But the only time I know, I’ll hear David Allan Coe

Is when Gil Thorp calls me as a partner on Golfing Day…”


Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Upset After Re-Classification By Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League.”

sub headline

“I just don’t understand why we’re being bumped down. We beat Milford Fire Department and I know they have a couple of ex-NFLers.”


I am really trying to make sense of this. So Milford Beverage gets this anonymous phone call to send 1,768,234 bottles of water and 342 cases of Coke, Mr. Pibb, Frosty Root Beer, and Yoo Hoo! and gives the receptionist his credit card number and expiration date. He then proceeds to have arranged 16 Uber drivers to transport it all after calling Milford Uber and leaving the location of the ball field after e-mailing an electronic check through Milford Ordnance Plant Federal Credit Union. And all he has to do is hide behind Penthouse and just say ‘maybe.’ Like the entourage of Uber drivers at the ball field was pulled off by Santa Claus at the North Pole.

In the faculty lounge

“Did you have Rudolph and Donner and Blitzen and Santa’s other reindeer that I forgot from Milford Pre-School deliver those cases of Coors?”


“Well, they had to dump a couple in the creek. A bit too lukewarm.”


“…It was all that I could to keep from crying

Sometimes it was so useless to keep playing

You don’t have to call it ‘Baseball’, Darlin’

They never even finished this stupid game…”


“And thus ends this non-baseball game. No score was kept. Hey, we’re all winners, right? Gil’s had plenty of those games in his resume. We just shake on it and let bygones be bygones and as long as we in truth stomped your butt, we’ll keep letting those bygones be gone. We’ll be back for final stats that you can tell your grandkids after this. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”


“OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That pepporoni slice didn’t agree with me!!!!!!!!!!! Where’s a trash can!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“My client, Elmer Erlenmeyer, was having a good time at the ball park but too much non-action and a healthy amount of Nick’s Pizza forced him into an unexpected trip from the EMT to Milford General.”

“When I found out that the insurance companies underwrote the whole pizza party and ball game, I was appalled. I wouldn’t have come if I knew it was non-sanctioned. I like fun at the old park and some Red Baron but I have my principles. They even had the nerve to have the Good Humor Man latch a ride with the Bud truck. This was a bacchanalian affair with Murderer’s Row in the spotlight. I wanted compensation for my gastronomic system and I wanted it fast.”

“I got Mr. Erlenmeyer $546,657,932 for this fiasco that wouldn’t have been a fiasco if the golf plot had kicked in. We called the EPA and they made sure that Superfund took care of all the vomit stains around the ball park and that pizza boxes and Bud bottles were properly disposed. I underatand the burial site is a proposed Izaak Walton League tract.”

“Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My stomach doesn’t need extra Pepto-Bismol, the High School Athletic Association has said ‘Just Say No’ to games played by Spot and Jane, and my check will finance a new microwave. I can cram all the DiGiorno’s I want. And wash it down with a Fresca. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. Come get your own slice of the pizza pie and have piece of mind knowing this one you won’t upchuck behind the backstop. Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS. One call, that’s all.”


Maybe one day this whole shebang will make sense. Maybe.

But there’s no maybe to your support, Gang. God bless you.


At Karaoke Hour at Milford Lounge, Coach Shaw on a roll with his Jazz guitar

“…Gil was drunk the day Mimi got out of prison

And we went to pick her up in the rain

But before me and Gil got to the station in my pickup truck

Gil’s mama done got run over by a damned ol’ train…”

Heard by a drunk in the back

“Hmmmm, less shheee, Mama, trains, pickup trucks, yup, looksh like (hiccup) he got ’em all. Oh, and Gil gettin’ drunk. Couldn’t leavsh that out.”


“Dr. Pearl, did you fill out that subscription order for Milford Bettor’s Handicap Daily in the teacher’s lounge?”


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